Meow. The food bank needs your help | Home Again

My cat Mocha and I sometimes have lengthy conversations. She appears before me, looks up with her blue Siamese eyes and says, “Meow.”

Sometimes I say, “What do you want?” and she takes me directly to the kitchen – as any self-respecting home-ruling animal will do.

Our actual conversations, though, are different from any I ever experienced with my beloved orange boy Ben. He wasn’t much into talking.

If food isn’t what she has in mind, Mocha sits down in front of me and says “meow” again, and I respond with my own “meow.” Then she responds, “meow,” and I respond and she responds and … well, you get the monotonous picture.

We extended one conversation to 10 “meows” each, which I told her showed great cat intelligence.

Mocha gave me a withering look and yawned. Oh, my. What I thought was her half of the conversation? Probably her every “Meow” translated from Siamese into some English word like “Blah,” when I thought every “Meow” was a sort of abbreviation for concern about global warming or saving whales.

Mocha’s expression told me she thought I was demonstrating the opposite of great human intelligence. Honestly, we don’t have many of those long conversations anymore, and that’s OK.

I don’t know why I’m telling you this, as repeatedly meowing back at a cat doesn’t reflect well on me. Also, unless you are a cat person, it’s likely you aren’t interested anyway.

But speaking of cats?

The Edmonds Food Bank, located at Edmonds United Methodist Church on Caspers Street, is low on cat food. Yes, the food bank provides pet food to pet owners who rely on the food bank to help feed their families.

Sometimes (now!) the supply of cat food runs low. So if you feel called to help someone feed a beloved pet, I hope you’ll donate a bag of cat food to the Edmonds Food Bank. (I’ll let you know when there’s a shortage of dog food.)

I’ve heard it said that people who go to food banks have no business owning pets. Here’s the thing: Only each person turning to the food bank for assistance knows the circumstances bringing that person through the door. That’s it.

And if you’ve never needed to walk through that door for the first time and ask for help, you can’t know how hard it is. There’s no room for judging at the food bank. As to pet ownership? If a family in financial distress has a pet, everybody in the home benefits from the devotion and companionship of that animal, quite likely acquired when circumstances were better.

I can’t imagine anybody having to give up a pet for lack of food.

While I’m thinking about the Edmonds Food Bank, I’ll mention the cheerful and dedicated men who faithfully volunteer early every Monday morning to sort bags. These diligent men organize hundreds of donated bags, so workers can easily pick up a stack just the right size for apples, onions, potatoes – even Meow Mix!

Women sometimes sort bags, too, and their work is appreciated; however, it was only the men who asked me today (again!) when they would appear in my column. So, guys, finally, you’re in my column. I appreciate you. Truly.

Everybody at the Edmonds Food Bank appreciates you. I think that must be enough. Perhaps now you’ll quit hiding my car keys.

After hundreds of “Home Again” columns, I still feel privileged – and amazed – that my words show up in the Edmonds Beacon every other week, and that local residents read those words. It feels good to hit “send” and know that I’ve completed another column, and it is on its way to my editor.

“Home Again” is based on memories, hopes, regrets, gratitude, interests and my observations of the town and residents of Edmonds. After being away for many years, I came home again, knowing myself better than I used to, knowing other people better, too.

I know that kindness wins the day, generosity is noble, and letting somebody go ahead of you in line at the market will make you feel good.

I know that acting petty, resentful or mean-spirited is like taking poison and hoping the other guy dies.

As long as little kids fly kites on the beach, my high school classmates meet monthly for lunch, the Dogs of Edmonds greet me on my walks, the holidays overwhelm hearts with joy and sorrow, and grandparents envision their own grandchildren when they read about mine, I won’t run out of topics, serious or light-hearted.

As a columnist, clearly, I can write about almost anything I want. I like to write about something people already know or feel but perhaps haven’t thought about lately. I like to show people the ordinary, leading them to recognize that the ordinary deserves status equal to the spectacular.

I want to remind readers that they’d better grab whatever opportunity comes along today, because today is what there is, and I want them to believe that they have more inner strength than ever they could imagine.

For me, the point of being a columnist is to get people to feel something—to question, relate, imagine or remember. Writing “Home Again” every other week for The Beacon offers me that opportunity.